What kind of animal would Trump be?
If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be?
Those who are unable to think metaphorically won’t even understand the question. But some of the organizations I worked with, years ago, used that question to help members understand a little better their relationships with the people they worked with.
Because I shouldn’t assume that everyone else will react to a situation the same way I do.
For example, I tend to think of myself as a donkey — a creature that carries whatever gets piled onto its back without complaint. In undeveloped countries, donkeys stagger along under mindboggling burdens. Until something breaks, that is. For a real donkey, a body part. For me, my emotional stability.
But, a colleague described herself as a hedgehog — an indication that when things got rough, she would figuratively curl up into a tight little ball protected by prickly spines. (Another called herself Miss Piggy, a clue that it was all about her.)
Obviously, I can’t ask world leaders what kind of animal they think they would be. But I get some wry satisfaction from imagining them as animals.
Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau might be a golden retriever. Friendly and lovable. Or perhaps a Chinese panda. Cute. And possibly convinced that’s enough.
I see Kim Jong-Un of North Korea as a peacock. His uses ballistic missiles as his tailfeathers, which he proudly displays for the world to admire. Even his stride, as he struts ahead of his generals, reminds me of a peacock.
Shakespeare got him right: “A poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage…”
Vladimir Putin? I suspect he would think of himself as a Siberian Tiger, the ultimate predator of the Russian taiga. I see him more like a cobra. Something about that cold unblinking stare, that readiness to strike without warning. Cobra might also symbolize his cyber-war against western democracies. Not the frontal assault that an angry elephant might launch. But something that sneaks in under the door, slithers around in the darkness, and is, of course, lethal.
And then there’s Donald Trump. That’s easy — he’s an alligator.
Before he was elected, Trump promised to “drain the swamp” of Washington’s professional lobbyists. Nonsense! Alligators don’t drain swamps — swamps are an alligator’s natural habitat. Instead of draining the swamp, Trump brought the swamp with him into the White House. In his first six months in office, Trump appointed 200 former lobbyists directly into his administration.
Psychologist Michael Dowd describes the most primitive part of the human brain, at the base of the skull where it connects to the spinal cord, as our “lizard brain.” Other parts of the brain reason, explore ideas, and seek loving relationships; the lizard brain just reacts. Fight, flight, or eat.
Trump boasts of having a high IQ. Maybe he has. But, he lets his lizard brain run him.
It used to be assumed that alligators had no family feelings. They laid eggs in nests and then abandoned them. Not so, I gather. New research finds that mother alligators guard their eggs for about three months, and defend their pod of hatchlings for their first year, with the kind of ferocity that only an alligator is capable of.
That too aptly describes Trump. His attacks on special prosecutor Robert Mueller, on former FBI honchos James Comey and Andrew McCabe, seem to me intended less to protect himself from charges of collusion with Russian interests than to protect his family — son Donald Trump Jr., son-in-law and special advisor Jared Kushner, daughter and business tycoon Ivanka.
I’m not sure why he needs Melania beside him at public events. Maybe it’s to provide something attractive to distract attention from his own essential ugliness. Or maybe it’s to keep her safely away from the jaws of some other alligator.
I don’t expect that my animal characterizations will change anyone’s mind. Certainly not the self-image of the individuals I have used as examples.
But they make it much easier for me to watch the nightly news.
After a Trump press conference in Washington, for example, I find it much easier to visualize his outpouring of lies, denials, and venom as an alligator lashing its tail in a swamp, rather than as the Commander-in-Chief of the most powerful nation on earth. Ditto for other leaders. It doesn’t solve anything. But in the utter absence of any solutions, it does deflate pomposity and make the news a little less depressing.